Personal Narrative: Moving To The Beach

A few months ago, I packed up my mid-western life and moved to the east coast to begin a new job in a town I had never heard of with nobody to call a friend. What I left behind was my family, my friends, my favorite coffee shop, and my yoga studio. This studio was my safe space. It had big open windows with the best kind of morning light that fell in pockets over a beautiful, old, wooden floor.

My favorite thing to do on a Saturday morning was unroll my mat on one of those sunny pockets and listen to my favorite teacher call us to our breath. That space housed some of my biggest victories and most of my lowest points where tears mixed with sweat dripped on to my mat. It was a community of big hearted yogis who showed up for each other as much as they showed up for themselves.
It was the hardest part of the move, I won’t lie. I tried dozens of studios and every time I left feeling heartbroken and homesick for my sun-warmed mat and familiar